


This isn't a date

by mistress_of_shadows



Series: miles/scar shiptober challange [7]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Cultural Differences, M/M, Miles is oblivious, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, coffee dates, scar is ok with this, their both so stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 06:43:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20962190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistress_of_shadows/pseuds/mistress_of_shadows
Summary: Miles and Scar are two people with the same wants, but at odd at how possibly these things are to achieve. Between shared coffee and walks in the parks, a brush with a friend helps them bridge the gap in their understandings of the situation at hand.





	This isn't a date

  * I laid my hand on the table next to Miles', open palmed and a clear invitation. I tried to bite back a stab of disappointment when he moved his hand away, taking a sip of my coffee to wash down the bitter taste. We’d been on a number of dates by now, central city not lacking for romantic establishments to court someone, but Miles never wanted to do anything more than to converse. Which was fine, but I was starting to think he had no romantic interest in me, yet if that was true, why did he keep agreeing to these dates I asked him on. 

“Do you like the coffee here? I’m finding it a bit bitter, but the pastries are very good.” Miles asked, brushing away a few flaky crumbs of his snack, I think he called it a turnover. I wanted to reach over and swipe away the bit of jelly on his chin, but knew from experience my touch wasn't welcome. So, instead I pointed to my own face helpfully, Miles retrieving his napkin to wipe his face.

“The coffee is strong, but I think that was their intent, to have it counter the sweetness of some of these foods.” I said, taking a bite of the near jaw clenching sweet chocolate filled croissant I had chosen. It wasn't normally what I would have chosen, preferring spicy or bitter foods. Amestrian chocolate was nothing like what I would enjoy back home.

I wondered if I was the first man to court Miles, and that was his reasoning to be so hesitant and touch adverse. Ishvalan's had no prejudice against same-sex couples, but I was starting to think that Amestrian's did. The couples I’d seen were far and few between. 

“It’s not something you like is it?” Miles winced as he watched me eat. Likely regretful for having suggested the treat when I said I liked chocolate. It didn't matter if I didn’t like the treat, the joy was from the company I had, not the food. It didn't matter why Miles hesitated either, I was a patient man, and could wait for him. 

“The chocolate in Ishval is not so sweet, it's more subtle and bitter.” I shrugged. Wondering if I should try broaching the topic of boundaries again. It would help both of us move forward in this courtship, but Miles always made an excuse to run away when I tried, and I was enjoying spending time with him too much to risk it. The Amestrians I trusted enough to talk about the subject were few, and the only helpful advice they gave was where to take someone on a date. Something I could have figured out on my own. Which left me stumbling in the dark on how to convey my intentions properly to Miles.

“Ah, you're probably thinking of something closer to what we would call dark chocolate. The croissant is made with milk chocolate. They add sugar and milk with the cocoa nib, so that it's not so bitter.” Miles explained with a small smile. My own lips quirking up as he did so. A warmth filling me as he again explained something without any judgement or harsh words. Being so kind and even sweeter than the chocolate.

It's what drew me to the other man and why I had no trouble waiting. Courtship was about showing your prospective partner that you could provide for all of their needs, be those emotional or financial. If Miles needed someone that could be a slow but steady presence as he found his way, then I had no trouble with filling that role. 

“Next time then. Is that something you like? Chocolate that is sweet.” I asked. Wanting to learn more about the man across from me. It was also the only thing he gave freely, and I craved every detail. 

“Yeah, my Aunt would make it as a drink in the winters. She would melt pieces of candy chocolate in a pot, and add more milk to it. But she could only do it when my Mom wasn't around, cause she didn't like us having so much sugar. Mom said it was bad for us, and while she was probably right, I loved Aunt Nina’s chocolate drinks.” Miles laughed, finishing off his turnover in one bite. I smiled warmly at the sound of his laughter, it was almost as soothing as the bells during prayer. Miles blushed slightly at my smile, and I had to resist the urge to reach out for him again. 

“My mother was just the opposite, so long as it was not in excess, we could eat whatever we wanted. My brother had a love for the sweet onions that sometimes grew by wells, and he could never eat enough berries to be satisfied.” I said. Memories of brother, or anyone else of my family, still hurt. Trying to think of him, or talk about him, was not something I did often. But with Miles it was alright. The hurt eased, and the memories only tinged with pain rather than consumed by it. 

*

My heart ached as Scar’s smile turned sour, something filled with melancholy instead of joy, and did I want to reach out to him in comfort, but I couldn’t. That was an act reserved for lovers, not friends. No matter how much I wanted to be more with the man, I knew he would only see me as a friend. 

“That sounds wonderful. Mom has always been much more strict than that. Only so much meat, or sugar, or anything. It was dad that always had to remind her to be lenient, and not to give us a fear of food. I think it mostly stemmed from her own problems with foods, but that’s a different subject matter altogether.” I took a sip of my coffee and tried not to grimace. Not sure how anything could be more bitter than Briggs coffee, at least it wasn't gritty with grounds. I'd add sugar to the drink, but there was none to spare on the table.

For as far as I knew, I was the only one that Scar talked about his family with. I felt a certain pride that he thought of me such a good friend to share his past when it still pained him. 

“Father did try and get us to be more balanced about what we ate. He would cook meals filled with meats and vegetables, and all the things he thought good for people. But we were mostly left to fend for ourselves when it came to snacks.” Scar said, finishing his croissant. I’d almost offered to finish it for him, I quite liked sweets, but I didn't know if that would cross a line with Scar. I didn't know why I tortured myself like this. Priests didn't date, so I had no chance of Scar loving me back, at least not in the same way I loved him. Still, every time he asked me to a friendly outing, I was too weak a man to turn him down. 

“My dad can’t cook for the life of him. The one time he tried he set the kitchen on fire, and we all agreed he was not allowed back in the kitchen. No matter how he insisted it was a fluke, and he could manage his own coffee.” I smiled at the loud laughter from Scar. It was better than even the best music. I wanted to catch the sound in a bottle so I could have it with me anytime I needed a moment of pure happiness. 

“My brother did that once. He wanted to make cookies for our mother to thank her for all the work she did around the house, but he got distracted by a book and forgot them in the oven. father had to scold him as mother was too busy laughing. He was never allowed to cook in her kitchen again,” Scar trailed off, almost frowning at the memory. I wondered if he was thinking about how his brother would never get the chance to be shooed out of a kitchen again.

I understood how lucky I was to still have so much of my family. My grandfather had passed before the war even started, and the rest of my family safely elsewhere. I so wished I could wipe the sadness from Scar’s eyes. 

“Do you want to go for a walk with me? They say that Mist park is lovely this time of year.” I asked suddenly. Our coffee’s nearly empty and, the sadist that I was, didn't want to give up the time I could spend with him. No matter the paperwork that needed to be done, or the risk that was him telling me no, or it was too much. 

“Yes. That would be nice.” Scar stood, holding his hand out for my cup. I emptied it in one last gulp, and let him take the cups to the counter for dirty dishes. I sighed wistfully as I watched his broad back walk away. Oh, how I longed to touch his wonderfully dark skin, but he was a priest. They couldn't do those sorts of things. I think he had tried to explain it to me a few times, but I was a coward. I'd ran every time before he had the time to tell me that in no uncertain terms he wouldn't have such feeling for me, and we could only be friends. This way I could keep my fantasies and hopes close to my heart. 

“Alright, I think it’s this way.” I walked to the door and held it open for him. Earning myself a flash of a smile, my poor heart fluttering at the sight. 

“Do you do this often? Walk parks and enjoy all the wonders that Ishvala has granted us.” Scar asked. Marveling at the tall trees and long lines of bushes with softly rolling grassy hills in the park. We walked close enough that our shoulders brushed every few steps, and I'd put my hands in my pockets so I couldn't accidently brush against his. It also helped the urge to grab his hand. My mind said I should take a step away, but my heart said that since Scar had made no mention of it, I should indulge in the chance to be so close. 

“Not as much as I would like to. Briggs does not have much more to look at than snow and mountains. But before I was posted there I was near a tiny community garden that I enjoyed visiting when I could. Did Ishval have parks?” I wasn’t sure about tacking on the question. Isval could sometimes be a touchy subject. I hadn't been there since I was a young boy, any memories I had fuzzy with time. But I wanted to learn as much as I could before we left to start rebuilding. 

“Not like this. Farmers never minded you wondering fields, so long as you didn't harm the plants, and there were many places where small desert flowers would grow in abundance. Some liked to make intricate framework over their houses to grow plants. Beautiful designs that showed the blessing of Ishvala.” Scar mused wistfully. I could only think of the time and effort it would take too care for plants in a place sparse of water. Then again, I thought I did read in a report that Ishval was fed mostly by an underground lake. One that was potentially undamaged by the war. 

“I look forward to what is grown again once we set foot in Ishval, and the efforts can be started in full effect.” Scar’s drive to go back to Ishval and start working was starting to rub off on me. I might have to go back to Mustang's office to see how the time tables could be moved up. 

“There is much to be done in Ishval, but it and its people are resilient. It will not be long before you will see It’s beauty. We are lucky to have someone like you take up the efforts to rebuild.” Scar turned to smile at me, over his shoulder I spotted his Master leaning back on a grassy hill. I’d yet to be given a name, so had little more to call him then Master. My shoulders tensing as I noticed the placement of his hand on the woman next to him, low on her hip and hardly a friendly grip. I sucked in a breath when the older priest leaned over to kiss the woman.

This was bad. This was so very bad. Scar looked up to this man, trusted him, and here he was in broad daylight breaking one of the most fundamental rules of being a priest. Love no one but Ishvala. It was a phrase I had heard from Scar, and his Master, and a few others. I couldn't let Scar see this. His Master was where he drew strength from, guidance. That man was Scar's steadying rock as he found his way back to peace and love, and away from the path of destruction and vengeance. I had to distract Scar somehow, he would be devastated if he knew his Master didn't follow what he preached. 

*

Miles stiffened all the sudden and it put me on the defensive. He was a good soldier, with better instincts. I tensed, ready for an attack. I started to turn to look at what Miles had spotted, when he reached out suddenly to grab my shoulder preventing me from looking. 

“So, uh, what kinds of plants, does one grow in Ishval?” Miles voice pitched up in panic. I assumed he did not want the potential threat to know they had been spotted, so I went with Miles lead. Keeping my eyes on him, but listening carefully to those around us. Also, his touch was not something I would turn away from any time soon. 

“Mostly succulents for homes, some favor cacti. Famers care to wheat and cotton. Depending on how able one is to care for the plants, vines and simple flowers can take well to homes.” I answered, now distracted by what Miles had seen. I had been cleared of any charges put forth by the military, and Ishvalan's praised for their part in the promised day, but that didn't mean that hostilities between people vanished. 

“That's nice. Did you ever have any plants of your own? Would you have an interest in making a garden when you have your own house again?” Miles led me away from the trail, towards a different route. Perhaps Miles had spotted the threat before they did us, and wanted to avoid crossing paths. Normally I might object, I was not going to waver towards those that had ill intents, but I was having too good of a time with Miles to let some idiot interrupt that. 

“My son, good day. Come, bring your friend and sit with us.” I heard my Master's voice from behind us. I paused in my answer to turn towards my elder with a smile, even as Miles cursed softly. Though I couldn't be sure why, I saw no one that might be a threat to us. 

“Ah, it’s my Master and his wife. We should greet them, ask how they are faring on this lovely day.” I looked back at Miles, curious to his wide eyed stare. The two had not met more than twice before, both for political matters concerning Ishval. I would like the two to get along, the man that was the closest I had to a father now, and the man I planned to love for the rest of my life. 

“His wife?” Miles squeaked, now I was exceptionally confused. The other Ishvalan sounded shocked, and looked like he might burst from bewilderment. 

“Yes.” I affirmed, mostly waiting for the other to explain himself in more than sputters and half words. 

“But I thought it was against the laws of Ishvala for priests to love others, and take people as spouses. You know 'a priest loves no one but Ishvala' you’ve said so yourself.” Miles finally pulled himself together enough to form a sentence, but that didn't mean it made any more sense. 

“What? When have I ever said anything of the like?” I tried to remember all of our conversations, and where Miles might have gotten the idea from. He repeated the phrase in its proper Ishvalan tongue and I instantly doubled over laughing. I did not mean for it to insult him, but there was no other reaction I could have. Trying to calm myself quickly in the face of Miles pouting, I took a deep breath and swallowed down another round of giggles. 

“No my red eyed brother, that is not the proper translation. A priest must love Ishvala most would be the most stringent translation, but many would say it is still not all that accurate. As we show love to Ishvala by showing love to others, so many agree that a priest should love a spouse with all their heart, and like no other. Because to love deeply, is to exemplify ones love for Ishvala.” now knowing where we had gotten so far from any form of common understanding. I would have to work on teaching him more of his own ancestral language, to try and prevent other misunderstandings. 

“So, priests can date and have families?” Miles asked. A flush on his cheeks and ears as his red eyes counted pebbles rather than look at me. 

“Oh yes. Master has had a wife for as long as I have been his student, and has many children of his own.” I took a step forwards to put an arm around Miles waist. Considerably sure that the action would actually be welcome, unlike my first assumptions. “Did you think I celibate?” I teased. Fingers digging into the rough blue fabric of his uniform, refusing to wear anything else, even when he wasn't on duty.

Miles surged forwards instead of answering. Our teeth knocking together as he misjudged the space. I hissed softly but quickly put a hand on Miles' cheek to tilt him to a better angle, and kissed him softly. Brushing my thumb over his sideburns to feel their softness, and enjoying how he melted against me. We pulled away for air only when the need became too great.

Remembering that my Master was likely still watching, and waiting for an answer. I waved to him, a show that I had heard his request, but I would not be taking him up on the offer to join the two on the hill. Not at all surprised by the knowing smile him and his wife sported. With my hand still firmly on Miles’ hip I led the other Ishvalan man away, we had much to discuss about how one courted in Ishval.

**Author's Note:**

> It's way to late in the night to be putting this up, but these two are far two cute to wait. So for right now I can't think of what I wanted to put here, other then if you loved it comment.


End file.
